


Aim to Please / Shoot to Kill

by stilinstuck (superagentwolf)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Horror, Canon-Typical Violence, Casual Sex, Deputy Stiles Stilinski, Desert Americana, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-30
Updated: 2017-06-30
Packaged: 2018-11-11 14:17:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11150160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superagentwolf/pseuds/stilinstuck
Summary: A deputy with dreams darker than the desert sky breaks down in the middle of nowhere. He leaves his car hoping for a town and ends up with more than he bargained for.





	Aim to Please / Shoot to Kill

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [Wolf Hotel American Nightmare Story](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11101686) by [Elica](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Elica/pseuds/Elica).

 His car breaks down somewhere off the highway in the middle of a desert.

“Just my luck,” he mutters, rubbing his tired eyes, and he tries to ignore the trickle of sweat down his back.

There’s nothing for miles around. It’s a flat, barren landscape. Even the tumbleweeds are stuck to the ground, dry and grasping like fingers.

He doesn’t want to leave his Jeep, but he knows it won’t be stolen. Not in its current condition. If he locks it, it’ll stay there for months without anyone even noticing it. Not here, in the middle of nowhere, where people pass through but never stop.

So where does he go?

_I just want to go home._

He starts walking.

The sun is setting and he’s tired. His feet are sore, pulsing with every beat of his heart. Even the drop in temperature is extreme- the sweat from his overheated body is rapidly becoming too cold on his skin. He can’t help but wonder what he’s done to deserve this. Still, he’s just about to give in and rest when he sees something in the distance.

A sign.

It’s yellowed and flickering but he can see it just in the distance. After a moment, when his eyes focus, he can see the flat building underneath it. _A hotel?_

* * *

“I don’t know why you bother,” Erica says, red nails running along his shoulders delicately.

Derek shrugs her off, agitated, ignoring the moment of fury that crosses her face.

“You should be asleep.”

“It’s only eleven, old man,” she replies, turning on her heel.

He doesn’t watch her go.

Maybe they’re in the middle of nowhere and it’s stupid to think anyone will come in. Still, he’s always willing to open the doors for his friends and family. People looking for a safe place. He knows how hellish it is driving down the open stretch of road, with nothing around for miles. Nothing but the confinement of a car…

He’s just turning the pages of the guest log when he hears something.

His heart stops.

He looks up slowly, eyes adjusting to the night outside. He can barely see the parking lot, the sign flickering like it always does, even after repairs.

There’s a boy.

Well, more of a man, but he’s young. Young, and unfamiliar. His hair is messy and dark, skin pale in the fluorescent light. He looks tired. Derek waits, watching the stranger try to peer inside. He taps on the glass.

He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

_Someone’s here._

* * *

Stiles hitches the bag higher on his shoulder. It’s heavy, burdened with clothes and other necessary things. He’s not sure how far away help is but he’d taken all he could when he left his car. He’s about to give up on the front door when he hears a small click. He pauses, waiting, and then almost loses his train of thought.

 _He’s handsome,_ he thinks, _but he could also be a serial killer, so…_

A man. Relatively young and strangely modern in the ancient desert. He has hazel eyes, which are currently scrutinizing Stiles with an almost-uncomfortable familiarity.

“Um- do you…have room?” Stiles manages to ask, even though there are no cars in the lot.

The man pauses, seemingly wrenched back into reality.

“…yes. Come in,” he says, offering his hand, and Stiles reluctantly lets his bag slide off his shoulder.

The door is locked behind them. Stiles thinks _if I need to, I can break the glass,_ but then he gets caught up in the place itself. It’s very Midwestern. The bar looks like it belongs in a saloon. The carpeting is nice, though- it looks like the kind of place that would make millions if it were in the middle of a city.

Still, he’s not sure if he can trust anything. His training is telling him something is off.

“Do you have a preference in floor?”

“No- just near an exit, please,” Stiles answers, turning back to the man.

The desk is high. Wood. There’s a laptop- another surprising thing. The man reaches behind him, retrieving a key. _Oh. So it’s not entirely modern, then._

“Keep this with you at all times. Don’t lose it,” the man says, “breakfast is at eight-,”

“I’m sorry,” Stiles interrupts, “I just…my car stopped further back up the road. Is there…someone I can call?”

The man is quiet, brow furrowed, and then something like realization sparks in his eyes. And then, curiously, dread.

“I’ll…call someone for you…it’ll take a day or two. The closest shop is pretty far,” the man manages faintly.

“Okay,” Stiles says slowly, still a little suspicious.

 _It could just be he hates to lose a paying customer,_ he thinks. _That’s probably it. Hell, I’d be stir crazy and starved for company if I had to work in the middle of nowhere._

 _Stir crazy is still crazy and still dangerous,_ he hears a voice that sounds like his father’s say.

The man leads him up the stairs, quiet.

“…here,” he says, stopping at the end of the hall. “There’s a fire escape through this window. Not that you’ll need it.”

“Right,” Stiles smiles a little. “Um…thanks.”

He closes the door behind him and exhales. _I don’t like this place._

_I don’t like it at all._

* * *

“Nice,” Erica breathes.

Derek doesn’t blink. He feels something rise in his chest- anger, maybe- and then he turns on his heel, a hand closing around her neck, lifting her off the floor and against the wall.

“You are not to touch him,” he says lowly, watching the spark in her eyes.

“What-,” she spits, struggling. “You _made_ the rules, Derek. He’s-,”

“ _Not to be touched,_ ” Derek repeats, leaning closer, exerting the dominance he knows he has.

Erica is silent, but she turns her head away, breaking eye contact.

Derek waits a moment, letting it sink in, and then he drops her back to the floor. He watches her cough and then he turns, seeing the others peering out from their doors and further down the hallway. Isaac. Boyd. Cora.

“That’s final,” he says, turning back towards the staircase.

* * *

“Something’s weird. Or maybe it’s just the isolation,” Stiles sighs, looking up at the ceiling.

He hears his father sigh on the other end.

“ _Listen, Stiles. The simplest answer-,_ ”

“…is usually the right one,” he finishes, smiling. “But, Dad…it’s just…”

“ _Gut instinct?_ ”

“Yeah.”

“ _Trust it. If something is telling you you’re not safe, you’re not. Listen, son, I can send-,_ ”

“No. No, I’m fine,” he says quickly, rubbing his eyes. “I’ve got my gun. No one’s tried anything, _if_ there’s anyone else here. I’ve just been awake a long time, and it’s night. I’ll be fine.”

“ _You sure?_ ”

“I’m sure, Dad. Listen…it’s probably nothing. Maybe he’s just weird. I’ll call you tomorrow to check in. With luck, I’ll be out of here in two days.”

“ _Okay. Stay safe, son._ ”

“I will, Dad. Thanks.”

* * *

_He is standing at the edge of a clearing. There is a tree in the center, felled, and the body is rotting away. The trunk, smooth and ringed, sits on the ground._

_The gun in his hand is cold. He grips it tightly, inching closer. He can still hear the scream in his head._

**_Come closer._ **

_He shakes his head, an involuntary twitch, breathing shallow._

_“There’s nothing here,” he whispers harshly, “Nothing here. Nothing here…”_

_Light flickers on the ground and he freezes, arms pivoting down, finger stiff on the trigger. Something unfurls on the forest floor. A firefly._

_It rises, and around him, others begin to rise, too._

**_Stiles._ **

_Something reaches from behind him, dry hands curling around his eyes and mouth, and his terror is caught in his throat._

**_You will die here…_ **

He wakes screaming.

* * *

The morning light filters through a gap in the curtains and Stiles realizes for the first time that they’re red.

He’s finding it hard to sleep. It’s been hard to sleep, since he left. He thought getting away would help. A transfer. Even a month hadn’t done any good.

 _It takes time,_ the counselor had told him, concerned. _You know that._

_I know. But being away wasn’t helping. I’ll always go back. I’m always drawn back…_

He showers slowly, enjoying it as the dust washes away. For now, he’s not worried about much. His gun is easily half-hidden, just under his oversized red hoodie. That, and the place doesn’t look so intimidating in the daylight.

He decides it’s worth it to try breakfast, so he makes his way out of the room, pocketing the key.

* * *

Derek is tense. He knows this is a terrible idea, knows it is dangerous…but it’s been so long, and he smells…different. Intoxicating. Like wood smoke, even after a trek through the desert.

He’s eating breakfast when the stranger walks in, surveying the room, alert.

That’s another thing. Derek isn’t sure what he is- a cop, maybe, or a soldier- but the stranger is perceptive. Always watching. He’d been looking for exits when he first entered.

“Morning,” Derek says, shocking himself.

Isaac stares at him from across the dining room, clearly thrown off.

“…good morning,” the stranger smiles, scratching his neck casually. “I didn’t introduce myself last night. I’m Stiles.”

“Stiles,” Derek says. _Strange._

“It’s a nickname,” he smiles. “And you…?”

“Derek. Derek Hale,” he says, a little late and out of practice.

“Oh. Derek. Nice to meet you.”

He watches Stiles walk away, still a little transfixed. _Stiles,_ he thinks, wanting to say the name again, taste it. He doesn’t, because they’re too close, and he watches Stiles fill a plate, trying to guess what he’s going to get.

Still, he’s itching to talk to him. He’s about to try and figure out how to wave him over when his sister beats him to it. Something tightens in his chest.

* * *

“Sit,” the girl says, eyes flat.

Stiles blinks. He’d been thrown off by the people in the dining room- two young women, two young men- but relieved to see Derek.

_I really hope he’s not crazy. He’s too cute to be wasted like that._

“…hi,” Stiles says, cocking an eyebrow as he takes a seat.

“Where are you from?”

_Right to it, then._

“Here and there. I travel.”

“Where did you grow up?”

“…Beacon Hills. It’s really-,”

“I know where it is,” she says, and there’s something sharp in her voice. She’s leaning away.

_Weird._

“Really? Do you have family-?”

“No,” she says shortly, gathering her dishes. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay in your room.”

She walks away, tense, and he tries not to gape.

_What the fuck was that about?_

* * *

“I sent word. They’ll call me when they’re in the next town over,” Derek says.

“Thanks,” Stiles manages, hands in his pockets, still confused.

_Something’s up with these people. I don’t know about Derek, but the rest of them…maybe they’re hiding out. Makes sense, in the middle of nowhere._

“…I hope they’re not scaring you off,” Derek tries, staring a little too hard at his cup.

It’s endearing in a strange way and Stiles fights the urge to laugh. _He looks like a kicked puppy. He’s too precious to be out here alone._

“Don’t worry. I’m used to weird,” he winks.

Derek seems a little transfixed, which is a little too attractive and Stiles has to fight the urge to slip a finger into his open mouth just to see what the man would do.

_Stop. STOP._

“I…I’ll keep you updated. About the mechanic.”

“Okay.”

* * *

“Are you a cop?”

Stiles almost has a heart attack.

“Um…sorry, what?”

It’s one of the guys from breakfast. He’s wide-eyed, with curly hair and withdrawn posture. He seems younger than he probably is, Stiles thinks, and he wonders what a kid is doing in the middle of nowhere. He doesn’t look like he’s related to anyone else.

“Are you a cop?”

“…kind of,” he smiles. “A deputy.”

“What’s the difference?”

He looks confused, which makes him look like a puppy. _Geez. The most adorable creeps you’ll ever meet,_ Stiles thinks.

“Um…department, I guess. Function. Not much…sorry, what’s your name?”

“…Isaac.”

“Oh. Isaac, I’m Stiles,” he smiles, extending a hand.

Isaac stares at it for a minute as if he thinks it’ll eat him. When he finally reaches out, Stiles is surprised at how warm his hand is.

“Geez. You run warm.”

“Do I?”

He stares at his hand as if it’s a foreign object. Stiles tries not to laugh.

“Um…have you been here long?”

“Yes. I mean-,” he glances down the hallway. “A while.”

“How long is a while?”

“I…,”

“There you are,” a voice says, and Stiles turns to see the other mystery man appear.

“Boyd.”

_Hm. Last name?_

“Erica wants to talk to you.”

Boyd looks at Stiles for a moment, scrutinizing, and Stiles thinks _he’s got a hell of a poker face._ _He’d be the hardest to take down, it looks like. Big guy._

“Okay,” Isaac says but he looks reticent.

“Hey,” Stiles says and the two turn around. “If you wanna talk…I’ll be here.”

He tries to smile, reassuring, before watching them make their way back downstairs.

_Yeah. This is definitely strange._

* * *

He’s usually pretty active. Whether it’s walking around town or doing some light exercise at the station, he’s always been too energetic to sit still. When he gets to his room, though, he sits on the bed one moment and is completely gone the next.

It starts like it always does.

_The fireflies resurrect themselves while he watches. He tastes copper on his tongue._

_Something moves in the forest._

_The dream is changing- he knows this, somewhere in the aware part of his mind, but the sleeping part reacts as if it is real._

_“Who’s there?”_

_Crunching leaves. A low growl._

_“Who’s there? Answer me!”_

_He can feel his pulse racing. Something is moving closer. The growl is multiplied- there are more, whatever they are, and then he wakes up._

_He is on the bed. The room is too red. He tries to focus, bring himself back, staring at the strange diamond wallpaper. He breathes heavily._

_“It’s fine. I’m fine,” he manages, blinking, and then something reaches up from the bed and grasps his wrists tightly._

_“No- wait, no-,” he starts, panic bursting like flames in his chest._

_It isn’t right, he thinks, confused and dizzy, struggling against the grip. It’s followed him out. Out of the dream._

_“No!” he screams, thrashing, and then he feels it pulling him down. “Wait- no! NO!”_

“Stiles!”

He blinks, chest heaving, gasping as he scrabbles on the bedsheets.

“Wha- what-,” he starts, still too out of breath to finish.

“You were having a nightmare,” Derek says, brows knit in concern. “Are you all right?”

“I- what…how…how did you get in here?”

“I have a master key. I thought…I thought maybe you needed help.”

Stiles pulls himself upright, watching Derek lean back a little. _Was I that loud?_ He pushes his hair away from his forehead, sighing.

“Sorry. I’m fine. Really.”

Derek watches him, hazel eyes searching. _They’re the color of the forest,_ Stiles thinks, trying not to stare too hard or long.

“You sure?”

Stiles raises an eyebrow, biting back a smile.

“Why? You have a suggestion?”

“Maybe,” Derek murmurs, voice dropping a little.

Stiles is the mesmerized one now. _Wow, I know that’s supposed to be sexy but oh my god is it really sexy-_

“Is that why you closed the door?”

_Well, his pupils just-_

His line of police thought is stopped in its tracks as Derek pushes him back onto the bed. He’s strong, Stiles notices, probably enough to easily overpower him, but he’s being careful.

Still, it’s not a careful kiss by any stretch of the word.

He’s losing air and coherent thought because Derek’s mouth is an absolute inferno and he’s wondering what the hell it is about this hotel and everyone being really warm when the man bites his lip and he forgets everything. He’s already pulling at Derek’s shirt, ignoring the fact that he’s moaning shamelessly into the other man’s mouth because _damn_ it feels good.

“This is some customer service,” Stiles breathes as they break apart, taking the opportunity to pull Derek’s shirt off.

“I aim to please,” Derek growls, yanking him further up the bed.

 _Jesus Christ I didn’t know I had this kink,_ Stiles thinks, almost too distracted by Derek’s ridiculously picturesque body to focus on what they’re doing. Still, he’s focused and on a mission, so when he spots an opening he goes for it.

“Just…tell me. If something…,” Derek starts, obviously distracted.

 _How sweet,_ Stiles thinks, glad that the man says something. It’s nice. Right now, though, he’s more focused on making him let go.

He’s not sure why he does, but it’s somehow right when Derek is distracted by Stiles’ pants. His head tilts just a little and Stiles, thinking only that it will be interesting, rises to bite the open neck before him.

Derek almost _roars_ and Stiles thinks to himself, _well, I found it,_ just as the man growls and manages to tear something on Stiles’ jeans.

“Guess you liked that, huh,” Stiles laughs.

For a moment, there’s some odd light in Derek’s eyes- he’s not sure what it is, some gold or blue or red reflection from the light in the room- but it leaves him breathless for a second. He’s not afraid but it sends a spike of something through his spine. Danger.

He loses his breath then, strong hands flipping him over, a little shocked. _Wow. Really, really liked it._

He’s an adult. It’s also not his first time. He’s had one or two relationships, long-term ones with dating and foreplay and hours spent in bed together. This is not like them. He thinks, maybe, that they were both a little biased from the beginning. He’ll readily admit that Derek is hot and he’s in the middle of nowhere with nothing to do; it would be a crime to ignore the attention he’s getting.

 _When in Rome,_ he thinks, laughing, and he feels Derek lean over him, chest brushing his back.

“You’re going to be mine,” the man growls.

“ _Try_ me,” Stiles hisses, defiant until the end, more than a little excited.

This is not the cautious man from the front desk. He’s a little proud to have done this- or maybe the front desk Derek is just him as an employee; who knows? All Stiles knows is that he’s getting the privilege of a bedroom alone with him and he’s not going to waste it.

 _Like hell I’d waste this,_ he thinks, and it’s the last full thought he has.

* * *

“…did I hurt you?” Derek murmurs.

“Nope. Nu-uh,” Stiles manages, buzzing pleasantly on the bed.

He’s not quite sure how long they’ve been there. He’s not sure about anything, other than the fact that the others _definitely_ heard them, unless they’re all mysteriously gone.

He only feels a little guilty about that.

“You’re sure?”

“ _Yes_ , teddy bear Derek.”

“…teddy bear.”

Stiles snorts. He’s starting to get a feel for the man. His questions, surprisingly, are usually phrased as statements. He has trouble being completely open. He likes to seem intimidating to others, probably, and he could be but he’s actually a huge softie.

_Or something like that._

“Yeah. Teddy bear in the streets, wolf in the sheets,” Stiles laughs.

He feels an arm tighten around his waist so he turns a little, trying to gauge the other man’s state of mind. He’s hoping regret is not a factor.

“Are _you_ okay?” he asks, trying for a little more seriousness.

“Me? Yeah. Of course.”

“Okay,” Stiles says, watching Derek’s eyes.

He’s still amused by the trick of light from before. It was cool. Unsettling. He thinks it’ll be just one of the many things he remembers about this…encounter.

“I should probably get back to the desk.”

Stiles snorts.

“Go on, then. Make sure the ghosts get in safe. And the coyotes.”

Derek raises an eyebrow.

“Coyotes.”

Stiles tries not to laugh and fails terribly.

* * *

He’s understandably worn out but too hungry not to get up.

He almost doesn’t shower because he can still smell Derek’s cologne on his skin. Still, he thinks it’s in bad taste to walk around smelling like…well, sex.

The floor is quiet. Or he thinks it is, until he hears something from below. He’s been a deputy long enough to know what a fight sounds like, near or far, so he tenses and unclips the strap on his holster. There’s a door at the end of the hallway, opposite the staircase, light filtering through the gap where it’s open.

“Okay. Probably nothing. Just an argument,” he murmurs, hand hovering over his gun as he skirts the wall.

He pushes the door open and is only a little surprised to see a staircase leading down. He follows the stairwell carefully, listening. _A basement?_ The sounds get louder- something like yelling or growling. It’s unsettling- if he didn’t know better, he’d wonder if there was a dog or something in the building.

 _Well, it is the desert,_ he tells himself. _Maybe it’s just an animal. Maybe they’re trying to get it out._

There’s a yell then, and the sound of a body hitting something metal, which makes him move faster. He spins around a corner, prepared, and throws open the door. It’s instinct- _throw it open, son, and you may just startle them enough to get stock of the situation before they react. Then you can decide. Shoot or talk._

The first thing he notices is that all four of the guests are there. Boyd is sitting on a box. Cora seems to be doing pull-ups on some sort of pipe. In the middle of the room, Erica is holding Isaac in a headlock.

“What are you doing?” he demands.

_Be firm. Loud. Act big, get big results._

“You shouldn’t be down here,” Erica spits, eyes fiery.

Isaac is watching him. He looks scared but not for himself… _for me?_

“Go,” Isaac insists.

He doesn’t sound choked. _So she’s not going to kill him. For now._ His mind races. He has few options: stay and try to fight all three of them, or leave and get help.

Find out if Derek knows.

* * *

He’s lost in thought when he hears his name being called.

He blinks, a rush of warmth flooding his veins when he sees Stiles. His immediate reaction is slowed by the look on Stiles’ face.

“What’s wrong?”

“Do you know what Erica’s doing to Isaac?”

He blinks, trying to stay calm. _What does he know?_

“…she’s a little rude…,”

“No, Derek. She’s beating him up and the others are…watching.”

Stiles searches his face. Derek feels his heart drop. He wonders how things can go so wrong in such little time.

“Are you sure?”

_Maybe he just heard something. Maybe I can convince him…_

“…you knew,” Stiles says, stepping back.

Derek can feel something breaking in him. It’s painful.

“Stiles, I-,”

“You _knew_ they were doing this. Why wouldn’t you help? Why-,”

He feels, rather than sees, Erica coming around the corner. He opens his mouth, about to move, but she’s already moving and Stiles is swinging around to see her lunge.

_No-_

* * *

He’s knocked off his feet, shocked by how strong she is. Still, his training kicks in and he’s rolling away, getting to his feet. He’s reaching, heart racing, until he realizes there’s nothing where his gun should be.

It’s a few feet away, right in front of the desk. Erica hasn’t seen it. Stiles tries to inch over, tense, and then he sees Derek bend down. His heart drops.

“Stop,” Derek tells Erica, firm.

He hasn’t raised the gun.

“You fucked this up the moment you let him in,” she says instead, tongue running over her teeth.

Stiles watches them drop. Sharp. Dangerous.

_What the fuck is this?_

He gets to his feet, thinking only that surprise and another weapon will help, until he sees Derek’s arms swing up. He freezes, feeling his heart drop.

“I won’t hurt you,” Derek says.

“You’re pointing a gun at me,” Stiles says hotly, “so you’ll have to forgive me if I don’t believe you.”

Derek looks hurt and scared but Stiles can’t care. He can’t. He tries to forget everything, put his law-enforcement glasses on, look at everything objectively.

It’s a little difficult, considering…

“I don’t care whether or not you _like_ him,” Erica continues, ignoring Stiles. “he’s human.”

“Um, yeah, honey, what are you? A honey badger?” Stiles quips, hoping to distract her.

_If I make her mad, Derek will try to stop her and he’ll probably drop the gun. I’ll get it and run._

“You know, I’d rip your throat out here and now-,”

“No, you won’t,” Derek growls and then Stiles loses his breath for a moment because the color is back.

The man’s eyes are _glowing_. They’re glowing and he has _fangs_ and Stiles is thinking he _must_ be asleep because this is not right, no one of this is right-

“You can’t be Alpha whenever you feel like it,” Erica manages but her teeth are already forcing themselves back to normal.

“I am _always_ Alpha,” Derek says quietly. “and I’m telling you to _stop_.”

Stiles watches, breathless, and then Boyd and Cora and Isaac appear.

Isaac looks fine. Completely, unbelievably fine.

“I’m going to need you to tell me what the fuck is going on here,” Stiles says, trying to keep his voice level.

“She wasn’t hurting me,” Isaac says quietly before Derek can speak. “We’re…we’re all...”

“What? Not human?”

“We’re human,” Derek interjects, eyes pleading, and Stiles has to fight the pull he feels.

“Well. Half-ish. We’re werewolves,” Cora says, raising an eyebrow. “We heal faster. We’re stronger. Better.”

“Okay. Werewolves,” Stiles says, trying to stay calm. “I’m going to need my gun back, Derek.”

The man watches him, quiet, before turning to the others.

“Back to your rooms. I’ll deal with you all later.”

They leave, in varying states of anger and annoyance.

“Explain,” Stiles says. “Now.”

* * *

“She wasn’t lying.”

“So you want me to believe you’re a werewolf.”

“…you _saw_ …do you _really_ want me to do it again?”

Stiles blinks, his poker face set, and Derek wishes he knew what the other man was thinking.

“Yes.”

He sighs, closing his eyes, and lets the shift settle. It’s easy and quick and then he’s looking at Stiles with eyes he knows are glowing.

“Okay,” Stiles breathes. “All right. Super fucking cool.”

“…cool?”

“…yeah.”

“You’re kidding,” Derek says, suspicious.

“I grew up on _Buffy_ , man. Fangs aren’t gonna scare me,” Stiles laughs tiredly.

“Stiles, we…she…Erica threatened you. That…,”

“I’m assuming that wasn’t kosher,” Stiles says.

“No. But she was worried. This is…a safe place. Not just for us, but for others.”

“Others like you?”

“Yeah. We…try to keep our people safe. It’s dangerous to let humans in. We were hunted before. She just…doesn’t want to put anyone in danger.”

“Well, she may have had good reasons, but she was kind of a bitch about it,” Stiles smiles. “I understand.”

Derek leans back in his chair. _Can it be that easy? Is it? Or is he just going to run and tell someone?_

Stiles watches him, head on his hand.

“You think I’ll tell?”

“…it’s happened before.”

“Hm.”

Stiles watches him, contemplating. He leans closer. Derek holds his breath, waiting or the inevitable- _call me a monster, curse me, tell me I’m disgusting, tell me you can’t believe you-_

“You know, when I said you were a wolf, I was joking,” Stiles mutters, and Derek has just enough time to be shocked before his mouth is occupied.

He can feel it- the connection- whatever they opened before pulsing in his blood. It feels _right_. When Stiles moves away he follows him for a moment, like a magnet, slumping back into his chair breathlessly.

“So,” Derek tries, still unsure of what he wants to say.

“So,” Stiles echoes. “you can update me on the mechanic and then we’ll try this again. This time, no secrets.”

“Try…again?”

He doesn’t believe it. He can’t. Not after everything- after being lied to, after running away, after dedicating his life to this place. In the middle of nowhere, never seeing anyone else. Kept away.

“…if you want,” Stiles amends, looking unsure.

 _You have a chance,_ he thinks. _Are you going to take it?_

“Yes. Yes- you’re crazy, and I don’t believe you, but-,”

“Okay, wow, _unnecessary,_ ” Stiles laughs, but he looks relieved. “Guess I have to prove myself again. Remember, I know your weak spot.”

“You do, don’t you?”

“M-hm. We’ll have to see how it works when I’m on top, now.”

Derek almost chokes on air and then he’s watching Stiles saunter towards the front desk, ringing the bell cheekily. He rises, a little triumphant and excited, leaning against the wood counter.

“May I help you?”

“I don’t know. How’s your customer service?”

“I aim to please,” Derek grins, letting his eyes flash.

A smile twists its way onto Stiles’ mouth.

“That’s what I like to hear.”


End file.
